


Give It Up

by Anonymous



Series: Stupid Deep [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A little, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Big Dick Richie Tozier, Bottom Richie Tozier, M/M, Making Out, Overstimulation, Switching, This is my life now, and endless romance, at this point you know what to expect, constant arguing, i've come to just embrace it okay, idk it's just a bunch of sex and nonstop talking as per usual, it's what he deserves, much less size kink in this one but it's still there, via talking shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Richie laughs and kisses him. “So why do they think I’m your husband, then?”Eddie makes a disgruntled noise. “I don’t fuckingknow, okay. Someone must have said it by mistake or something, and then it caught on, and I didn’t correct them right away, and now Ican’t. It’s fuckingdumb.”“So you’re just letting them believe we’re married,” Richie says, grinning.“Yes,okay, I don’t fuckingcare.It’s not like it makes adifference.”





	Give It Up

Eddie hates shopping with Richie, which means, inevitably, that Richie _loves_ shopping with Eddie. 

“Richie, oh my god, stop fondling carrots. God, why do I even bring you?”

Richie grins, feeling up another carrot. “I’m just finding the plumpest one.”

“That doesn’t even make fucking sense, they all taste the same. Carrots aren’t even _plump_.” 

Richie laughs and says, “Eds, there are children around.”

“There’s definitely _a_ child around, and his name is Richard Fucking Tozier,” Eddie mutters, but he looks around surreptitiously and looks appropriately abashed when he sees a mother with a young daughter by the apple bins. 

“Anyway, you bring me along so that I can protect you from the scary people who go grocery shopping at night,” Richie says sweetly. “You are small and delicate and I must watch your back for people with concealed weapons or strep throat.”

“You’re not funny,” Eddie says dryly. “The only reason we’re shopping this late is because you drank all the soy milk and didn’t tell me.”

“Eddie, my love, my soulmate. I wanted cereal and the regular milk had gone bad. So what’s a man to do?”

“Not be a _baby_,” Eddie mutters. “Go out and buy some milk, maybe?”

Richie shakes his head, grinning. “Are you sure you came here for lactose-free milk alternatives? I thought maybe you just came to hold phallic vegetables.”

Eddie glares at him and puts down the eggplant he was examining for spots or whatever the fuck he looks for. “I’m sending you home,” he says. “Actually, no, _I’m_ going home, and you can—”

“Edward?”

Eddie’s neck snaps around, and his eyes go wide. “Oh, uh. Hi, Wendy.”

Richie stares between Eddie and a middle-aged lady pushing a shopping cart up next to the display of butternut squash. Eddie glances at him and shakes his head. Richie smiles. 

“Edward! How nice to see you.” Wendy smiles brightly, her greying hair a curly mess around warm brown eyes. “Do you live around here, too?”

Eddie licks his lips nervously. Richie settles in to watch, grinning. “Ah. Yeah, I live pretty close by. Just stopping by for some, uh, grocery items—”

Wendy nods understandingly, as if he’s making perfect sense. “I never knew we were practically neighbours. How nice!” 

Eddie winces and nods very unconvincingly. 

Wendy’s eyes flick away from him, to Richie. She takes a step closer, and Eddie jolts visibly. “And who is this you’re with?”

Eddie clears his throat. He stares at the ceiling. “Uh, Wendy, this is...Richie. Richie, Wendy, from work.”

Wendy’s entire face brightens like the sun coming out from behind clouds. “Oh, Edward! Is this your husband?”

A bubble of laughter gets caught in Richie’s chest at the look of absolute horror on Eddie’s face. Eddie shakes his head vigorously, out of Wendy’s line of vision. Richie blinks, and then grins, and says absolutely fucking nothing. 

Wendy frowns in confusion, and looks to Eddie again. “Edward?”

Eddie’s throat bobs, and he looks from Richie to Wendy quickly. His cheeks are flushed. Richie can feel the panic coming off of him in waves. He knows perfectly well that Eddie has two options right now—to embarrass himself in front of a coworker by saying no, and to embarrass himself in front of _Richie_ by lying. And he knows which one Eddie will choose. 

“Ah,” Eddie says. His expression goes steely. “Yes. This is him.”

Richie beams, deeply satisfied. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise! Ah, Edward has told us _all_ about you,” Wendy gushes, bustling towards him to shake his hand.

Richie laughs, glancing at Eddie over her shoulder. He looks horrified. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course!” Wendy says, and Eddie shakes his head behind her. 

It’s all boring small-talk after that, Wendy chattering about how it’s so _nice_ to finally meet Edward’s husband, he always says you can’t make it to office events, really a pity, everyone would love to meet you! Richie grins and nods along, cheerfully makes vague excuses. He assumes Wendy has never seen Richie’s comedy specials. She is happily oblivious. Eddie looks ready to commit a crime just to get out of this situation. 

“Anyway,” Richie says when Eddie starts to look like he really might go through with it. “Sorry, Wendy, it was wonderful to meet you.” He meets Eddie’s eyes and smiles just a little bit wickedly. “But I have to take my _husband, Edward_, home now.”

“Oh, of course!” Wendy says, waving them off with a smile. “Hopefully I’ll see you around in the future.”

“Hopefully,” Richie says, and then allows Eddie to drag him towards the checkout lane, grabbing a carton of soy milk along the way. 

“Shut up,” Eddie says, fumbling for his wallet. “Shut up, Richie, I mean it.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Richie says, grinning.

Eddie is practically steaming, he’s so red. It’s wonderful. He walks out of the store before Richie can even grab the receipt. 

Eddie doesn’t say a single word the entire walk home, always a couple steps ahead of Richie, his knuckles white around his bag of groceries. Richie follows him happily, and bites his tongue. He looks at Eddie in the elevator and practically feels his gaze ping right off him, Eddie is deflecting so hard. It’s really a work of art. 

Richie’s mouth is opening to say something idiotic—he’s not sure what, but he knows Eddie will hate it—before their front door has even closed behind them. “So,” he says, voice thick with mirth and the smugness of a man who knows his significant other has some explaining to do. 

Two hands fist in the front of his shirt, and for a split second Richie is thirteen years old again and about to be pushed up against a locker and spat on. His heart catches in his chest. 

And then he _is_ being shoved, but it’s up against the door as it closes, and then there is a mouth, quite violently, covering his own. 

“Oh,” he says, muffled up against a pair of compulsively moisturized lips. “Hah.”

Eddie kisses him with the desperation of a man who does not want to talk about something extremely stupid that he has done. Richie grins into it, and opens his mouth, and lets it happen, because, _really_. He’s not about to say no. 

“Shut up,” Eddie says, after kissing Richie so deeply his knees turn into something soupy. “Shut the fuck up, okay?”

Richie grins, and Eddie’s next kiss falls on his teeth. “M’not saying anything.”

“I can hear your stupid, mocking thoughts,” Eddie says fiercely, and pushes his hands up Richie’s shirt to drag his fingernails over his chest and stomach, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that it has Richie arching against the door. 

“Oh, shit,” he hisses, and then Eddie kisses him so scorchingly hot that Richie’s vision goes white for a second. “Holy shit,” he laughs, blinking out of the ensuing daze, feeling Eddie’s spit-slick mouth on his jaw, his hot hands on Richie’s ribs. “I know this is just an attempt to shut me up, you’re not smooth.”

“I’m not trying to be, asshole,” Eddie says, and sucks on Richie’s pulse point hard enough that Richie makes an embarrassing sound. 

“Oh, fuck. I know this is just a distraction but it is _working_,” Richie groans, pushing his hips against Eddie’s. 

Eddie laughs breathlessly, pressing up on his toes and dragging Richie’s face down to lick into his mouth. Which is fair, honestly, because if Richie’s mouth is free, he _is_ going to talk. 

They’ve been together and having very regular sex for a few months now, and it is _good_. It is so fucking good that Richie can’t believe it most of the time. The sex is...it is _exquisite_. Eddie is hot for him basically all the time, is eager to jump on Richie’s dick pretty much anytime they’re both home, and he’s fucking hot and Richie wants him more than he has ever wanted anything, ever. Richie is a fucking pro at wanting Eddie Kaspbrak and he’s just getting more and more practice every day. They fuck all the time, because Eddie loves getting fucked and Richie loves making him feel good. And it is good _every_ fucking time. It is so good that Richie sometimes thinks they must be cheating the system somehow. 

But all the other stuff is _also_ fucking good. Making out against walls and groping each other in the kitchen and also. Clumsy morning kisses over cups of coffee and scratching Eddie’s back while he reads the paper and sitting practically on top of each other on the couch while they watch TV in the evenings. And Eddie arguing with him at the store and making him drink water and ironing his clothes. It’s all so good. 

This is also good, right here, right now. Eddie pressing a thigh between Richie’s legs and grinding up against him and licking at his lower lip, already swelling from Eddie biting it. Eddie dragging his hands all over Richie’s skin under his shirt, pressing his fingertips into his lower back, dipping them under the waistband of his pants. Richie’s hips jerk forwards, and he grins into another brain-meltingly hot kiss. God, Eddie’s fucking good at this. Richie still, sappily, wishes he could have been Eddie’s first kiss, but this is good enough. This is _great_. 

“Oh, god,” he moans, as Eddie pushes his hand deeper into his pants to scratch his fingernails over his tailbone. 

Eddie hums smugly, craning his neck up to slide their tongues together. 

Richie does not appreciate that smugness. Eddie’s supposed to be desperate here. Richie is giving in too easily. He needs to regain the upper hand, so that this keeps happening, possibly forever. 

“Eds,” he mutters into their next kiss, spreading his legs a little so their crotches line up better. “Edward.” Eddie growls a little, and Richie grins. “Ah, fuck. Am I about to get fucked by my husband?”

Eddie goes still for a second, and in that moment, a brand new fire blooms in Richie’s chest, and also in his gut. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie says, biting at his chin. 

“Ow, Eddie, fuck.” Richie swallows thickly and ruts forwards against him. “I was just wondering if my husband was going to take me to bed and plow me.”

His cock throbs at the thought of it. Oh, fuck. 

“And _I_ just told you to _shut up_. It’s not like I told them you were— No, shut up, I’m not talking about this.” Eddie grips Richie’s hips and grinds against him again. 

Richie moans long and low. “Yeah yeah, you’re embarrassed,” he pants. “Would be a shame if you, fuck, took it out on your husband by fucking him.”

“Oh my god, what is your problem,” Eddie huffs, face pressed into Richie’s throat. “And what is with this newfound fixation with me fucking you.”

Richie feels his face go hot at Eddie saying it. God, he doesn’t even _know_. He’s been fucking Eddie for months now, very happily. Eddie’s ridiculously into his dick, and Richie is enthusiastic about giving it to him, whenever possible. Eddie fingers him every now and then, mostly at the same time as blowing him, and Richie’s gotten the chance to try out the plug a couple times, but in general Eddie wants the attention to be on his ass, and specifically on Richie’s cock inside of it, and that works for them. That works for them _very_ well. Eddie’s kind of a cockslut, and Richie _loves_ indulging him. It’s fucking inspirational. He gets off on how much Eddie gets off on his dick. 

But just now he thought about Eddie like this, fierce and fiery and all tightly-wound tension, and he thought about Eddie inside of him, Eddie sliding in and out of him, Eddie _fucking him_, and Richie’s brain short-circuited. Or re-wired, maybe, a little bit. And oh, he wants it. He wants it bad. He finally understands Eddie’s desperation, to some extent. 

He swallows hard. He presses his cock into Eddie’s hip. He says, “I think it’s about me wanting you to fuck me. A lot.”

Eddie jerks back. His lips are swollen and parted, panting slightly. He looks at Richie shrewdly. “Yeah?”

Richie bites his tongue and nods, mind going a little blank. “Yeah.”

A smirk pulls at Eddie’s lips. His eyes flash, and he pulls his hands out of Richie’s pants to hook into his belt loops. He tugs him away from the door. His gaze flicks towards their room.

Oh, _hell_ yes.

***

Richie wants to make out, but Eddie is not feeling extremely charitable today, which Richie supposes he can understand, on account of him being a huge piece of shit pretty much all the time but especially today. So he’s not all that surprised when Eddie kisses him hard next to their bed and then pushes him facedown onto the mattress and tells him to take his pants off.

“Anything you say, husband,” Richie pants, and receives a somewhat deserved and not-at-all sexy slap on his newly-bare ass for that. He laughs anyway, and continues pushing off his pants and kicking them off his feet. 

“Stomach,” Eddie tells him. “Legs spread.”

“How come you’re bossy when you’re bottoming _and_ when you’re topping?” Richie asks, propping his chin up on his pillow. 

“Because you’re a dick either way and I have to be bossy to get anything done.”

Richie snorts, turning his head to watch Eddie peel off his pants and grab the lube out of the bedside drawer. “What do you think would happen if you just stayed quiet?”

“You’d be three times as obnoxious and it’d take me an hour longer to come, probably by my own hands,” Eddie says, moving to kneel on the mattress next to Richie and leaning over to press a kiss to Richie’s spine below the hem of his shirt. 

“You don’t think you’d like that?” Richie asks, feigning innocence. “Me waiting until you’re desperate, and edging you for hours?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Eddie says dryly, smoothing a palm up Richie’s thigh and over his ass. “I’ll decide for myself when and if I want to be edged.”

“That’s not really how that works,” Richie says.

“It is in this relationship,” Eddie says, and then his hand disappears, and Richie hears the squeeze of the lube bottle, and he tenses up. 

Eddie smacks his ass again, much more gently this time. It’s still not sexy. “Relax,” he says. “It’s not gonna feel good if you do that.”

“It’s gonna be cold,” Richie says sulkily. “And don’t talk to me as if I’ve never had _anything_ up my ass.”

“Then stop tensing up like you’re a virgin,” Eddie says, rubbing his dry thumb over Richie’s rim. “You want me to blow you first?”

“No,” Richie says quickly, shifting against the sheets. “Want something in me.”

“Oh, I know the feeling,” Eddie says, voice dark. Richie shivers. 

“Very excited for someone as well-versed in getting their ass fingered to be doing the honours,” Richie says breathlessly. “Do the deed, Dr. K.”

“Literally, Richie, literally, you’re so annoying, and I hate you.”

Richie grins. Eddie slides a finger into him. 

“Oh, _shit_,” Richie says, arching against it. “Okay, hello.”

“Mmmm. Good?”

“Not really,” Richie says. “Feels like someone stuck their finger up my ass.”

Eddie snorts. “You’re just not bottom material.”

“How dare you say that,” Richie says with a scowl, squirming a little and wondering, vaguely, if Eddie might be right. Maybe this just isn’t his thing, at least without the added sensation of Eddie sucking his cock—

And then Eddie pumps his finger gently, and Richie makes an embarrassing sound and presses into it, and pleasure sparks up his spine. 

“Take it back,” he pants, trying to fuck himself back on Eddie’s finger, chasing that feeling. “I fucking love this.”

Eddie laughs, and curls his finger a little. Richie makes a choked noise. “Good, right?”

It’s not exactly how Eddie always describes it. Eddie just likes having something inside him, just likes being _full_. Richie doesn’t get that, exactly. But what he _does_ like is the slick, erotic feeling of Eddie _moving_ in him, rubbing against him, lighting all his nerve endings on fire. It’s fucking _hot_. 

“Oh god, oh shit, that’s something,” he babbles mindlessly. “Eds, Eddie, please put another in me, I am so into this.”

“Is this your first time getting fingered on its own?” Eddie asks, sliding his finger out of Richie completely to add more lube and then sliding two back in. It’s a gentle stretch, but nothing he’s never felt before. 

“I think so,” Richie gasps. “Usually we’re at least grinding.”

“Hot,” Eddie says, like it’s a fact, and then presses his fingers in deep and twists them. 

“Oh, shit. Fuck, Eds. I’m horny as fuck.”

“Good, now you know how I feel, _all the time_.” Eddie pumps his fingers methodically, and it drives Richie out of his mind. “Do you know how much time I spend at work, thinking about your dick inside me?”

Richie laughs breathlessly, pressing his hips back against every thrust. “Is that before or after you’ve told your coworkers we’re married?”

“I _didn’t_— Oh my fucking god.” Eddie curls his fingers, moves them around expertly, and rubs directly over Richie’s prostate. 

“_Fuck!_” Richie shouts, spine arching sharply. He whines, and Eddie keeps rubbing over it, pressing just lightly enough that it doesn’t hurt. “Holy fucking shit, Eddie, Eds, _Eds!_” 

“Stop being a dick then,” Eddie says, letting up a bit. He thrusts his fingers in and out deeply, but rubs over Richie’s prostate every time, ruthlessly precise. 

“You’re a fucking monster,” Richie pants, squirming away and pressing back at the same time. “I’ve given you too much power.”

“I have _all_ the power,” Eddie says smugly. “You’re _mine_, bitch.”

“Not sure you’ll be singing the same tune the next time you want my dick in you,” Richie says, and then bites back a scream as Eddie presses into him wickedly deep. 

He doesn’t argue, though, which makes Richie feel a little bit satisfied. 

He loses all sense of satisfaction, and in fact every other feeling other than overwhelming pleasure, when Eddie pushes at his hip to get him to roll over, and then fingerfucks him almost brutally at the same time that he leans down to swallow the head of Richie’s dick. 

“Shiii-i-i-iit,” Richie groans, back arching, fingers curling in Eddie’s hair and around his warm shoulder, blood rushing in his ears. Eddie is fingering him like it’ll kill him to stop, and he’s fitting as much of Richie’s cock into his mouth as he can, and it’s _so much_ and Richie is going to fucking _die._ “Not fair, Eddie, no fair, you can’t— I’m gonna—”

“You always make me come twice,” Eddie says, Richie’s dick falling from his mouth. “Your turn, dickwad. Now come on my face.”

“Oh my _god_,” Richie moans, cock jerking valiantly. 

“Come on, Rich, come on baby, you like it, huh? You like me fucking you with my fingers? It’s good, right, so much pleasure all at once? Like coming apart from the inside out. You like how it feels? Just wait till it’s my cock inside you. Just wait till I’m coming in you.” 

Richie moans pathetically, and Eddie licks over the head of his cock. 

“Come on,” he says again, fucking his fingers into Richie so deep, rubbing over his prostate like it’s his fucking job. “Come on, Richie. Come on my face.”

Pressure builds low in Richie’s stomach and tight in his balls and at the base of his dick, and a tear leaks out of his eye, and then Eddie screws his fingers deep into him and Richie’s hips are jerking off the mattress and he’s coming, and coming, and his vision is flickering, and Eddie is grinning at him, stripes of come across his cheeks and chin and swollen lips. Richie gasps desperately for air and stares at him, shellshocked. 

“There you go,” Eddie says, sliding his fingers out of Richie and patting his thigh. “Attaboy.”

“Holy shit,” Richie says weakly, breathing hard. 

“Recover quick,” Eddie says, tongue flicking out to lick come off the corner of his mouth. It’s disgusting. “I still have to fuck you, and I’m kind of hungry.”

Richie whimpers, and begins to understand how his boyfriend became so addicted to getting dicked down daily.

***

“So,” Richie says about five minutes later, his breathing still not quite normal and his ears still ringing a little bit. Eddie is lying facedown on the bed beside him, looking dangerously close to smothering himself. “_So_.”

Eddie groans and turns his head to look at him. His hair is wild and his brows are pulled together and his shoulders are bare above the blanket where he’s pulled it up to his armpits. Richie wants to kiss him. “Are you _sure_ you can’t just leave it alone?”

Richie, in all of his infinite kindness, actually considers it for a half second, and then he grins and shakes his head. “I must know, Eds. I must.”

“Listen, I didn’t even—” Eddie cuts himself off and says. “Can you at least finger me for this?”

Richie chokes a little. “How does that have anything to do with this?”

“It doesn’t, I’m just horny and I want to be fingered, and if you’re gonna be an asshole you might as well do _something_ for me.”

Richie shuffles closer to him on the mattress, kisses his temple, and reaches across him to find the lube. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word until Richie has helped him tug off his underwear and has two fingers knuckle-deep inside him. He sighs and presses back into it and scowls. “I didn’t even tell them you were my husband or anything.”

“Yeah, I was getting that impression,” Richie says with a grin, fingering Eddie gently. Not enough to really stimulate him, since he still wants Eddie to fuck him. Just enough so that he feels it. “What _did_ you tell them?”

“_Nothing_,” Eddie growls. “Mm. Feels good.”

“You must have told them _something_, or else they wouldn’t even know who I am,” Richie laughs. 

“Yeah, I just, like. Called you Richie, because that’s your fucking name.”

Richie snorts. “You just said, ‘_Yeah, here’s a story about Richie_,’ without any context about who I am?” 

Eddie frowns deeply, his cheek dimpling. There’s a flush spreading down his neck. “I think the first time it came up I said _we live together_, and then once I think I used the word _partner_, under pressure. And then Anna from across the hall started saying, like, ‘_Your Richie_,’ like in casual conversation, ‘_What did you and your Richie get up to on the weekend?_’” He frowns as if he hates it. 

Richie _loves_ that. “That’s so fucking cute, oh my god. I love this mental image of you making small talk with your coworkers about what you do on the weekend. Interacting with people like a normal human. This is hysterical. I hope you don’t tell them the truth about what we do on the weekends. But also I hope you do. What do you tell them? Also can I write jokes about this?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“You know that I don’t, ever.” 

“Keep fingering me, moron. What would you even write jokes about?”

Richie pumps his fingers slowly and kisses his wrinkled brow. “About my dumbass boyfriend grumpily trying to navigate regular smalltalk. This entire conversation is being turned into a bit as we speak.”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, frowns, and presses back against Richie’s fingers. “Just don’t do a fucking Voice.”

Richie laughs and kisses him again. “So why do they think I’m your husband, then?”

Eddie makes a disgruntled noise. “I don’t fucking _know_, okay. Someone must have said it by mistake or something, and then it caught on, and I didn’t correct them right away, and now I _can’t_. It’s fucking _dumb_.” 

“So you’re just letting them believe we’re married,” Richie says, grinning. 

“_Yes,_ okay, I don’t fucking _care._ It’s not like it makes a _difference._” Eddie reaches back to grab Richie’s wrist and pushes his fingers deeper into him. 

“Okay,” Richie says lightly, biting back laughter. “If you say so.”

“It doesn’t even _matter_,” Eddie growls. 

“Mhmm. I could tell you thought so by the way you looked like you were going to explode at the store.”

“_I_ don’t care if they think we’re married,” Eddie says. “I just knew _you_ would be a fucking idiot about it.”

“Of course,” Richie says mildly. 

“I fucking hate you,” Eddie tells him, his face pink and eyes fiery. “You’re so annoying, oh my god. Are you ready yet? I’m gonna fuck you now.”

A little jolt of arousal goes through Richie at that. He grins and says, “You know, you could have just corrected them right off the bat. I have never known Eddie Kaspbrak to be shy about correcting people.”

Eddie groans and pulls away and says, “Alright, asshole, how do you want to do this?”

Richie bites back a smile. “You don’t want to decide?”

“It’s your first time getting fucked, dickface. Pick whatever sounds the most comfortable, or gets you going or whatever.” Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Richie is absolutely fucking in love with him. “Sit up against the headboard, hot stuff,” he says. “I want to make out.”

“Always with the making out,” Eddie sighs. “It’s like you’re in love with me or something.”

Richie barks out a laugh. “You wanna sit on a dildo or something?”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie says grouchily. “I’ll get you to fuck me twice tomorrow or something.”

“You’re ridiculous, and I love you,” Richie tells him. “And tomorrow’s a Wednesday.”

“And?” Eddie says, eyebrows arching. He sits down against the headboard. His cock bobs, hard and flushed and leaking precum. 

“And nothing. I just love you.” Richie swings a leg over Eddie’s thighs and sits on them, leaning in to kiss him hard on the mouth. 

Despite Eddie’s earlier complaints, he kisses back indulgently, humming into it and letting his hands fall to Richie’s waist, squeezing at him softly. It doesn’t make Richie feel particularly sexy, but Eddie tugs Richie’s shirt over his head and drags his palms all over Richie’s stomach and chest like he can’t get enough of it, and that helps. They’re both completely naked now, and Richie doesn’t always love that, the damp-hot-squishy _bareness_ of it all, but today it’s kind of hot—he likes touching Eddie, likes rubbing at his nipples to make him arch his back, likes pressing their stomachs together. Likes rutting his cock up against Eddie’s abs, even before he’s fully hard again. 

He’s getting there quickly, though, with Eddie’s hands all over him, and Eddie panting and hot underneath him, and Eddie kissing him so deep it makes his toes curl. And then Eddie’s sliding his fingers back into Richie, slow and deep, and Richie groans and presses into it, the slick slide of it. 

Eddie avoids his prostate, graciously, and instead scissors his fingers apart gently before pressing a third into him. Richie’s voice cracks on the, “Fuck, _Eddie_,” that crawls out of his throat, like he’s a teenager. Eddie makes him _feel_ like a teenager sometimes. 

He definitely has the refractory period of his 16-year-old self right now, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders and rutting against him as his cock thickens and hardens. Eddie groans at the sight of it, moving his free hand to wrap around the base and stroke up him once. 

“Hey,” Richie says, fucking up into his fist. “Stop that, I’m trying to get fucked.”

“This is a travesty,” Eddie sighs, thumbing over the head. “So much cock and I can’t even sit on it.”

“Oh my god, Eddie, you can top _one time._” 

“But then you’ll find out you like it, and you’ll make me do it all the time, and then when am I supposed to get fucked? All of this dick, wasted.”

Richie chokes on a laugh as Eddie fucks his fingers into him deeper. “Oh my _god_. Eds. Relax.”

“I’m just preparing myself for the inevitable,” Eddie says. “You don’t know how good it feels to get fucked yet.”

“I’ve been fucking you for several months now,” Richie says breathlessly, grinding down against Eddie’s hand. “I think I have a good idea of how much you like it.”

“You haven’t experienced it firsthand,” Eddie says. “And you never will, because no one else has a dick this fucking big.”

“I doubt that,” Richie says, and a high whine sneaks out of his mouth as Eddie’s fingers nudge up against his prostate again. It’s still a little oversensitive, but in a good way, now. 

Eddie does it again, his eyes hard. “Yeah, well, no one else is gonna be fucking you other than me.”

“You’re not fucking me either,” Richie points out. 

Eddie slides his fingers out of him. Richie grins. 

“Lift up,” Eddie says, slick fingers pressing into his hips. 

“I know how this works, babe,” Richie says, heart beating fast as he presses up on his knees. “You don’t have to boss me around for this.”

Eddie ignores him, dribbling more lube over his cock. “Tell me if you want to stop or go slower.”

“Mmm.” Richie reaches down and slides his fingers around Eddie’s slick cock, shifts into position so that the head is pressed up against Richie’s rim. “Ohhhh god.”

“I told you,” Eddie says, leaning forward to mouth at his chest. 

Richie swallows thickly. He’s honestly, seriously fucking turned on right now, with Eddie on the precipice of pushing into him and knowing what’s about to happen. But he’s also a little scared, stupidly. He knows it’ll feel good. Eddie fucking loves it, and it’s not like Richie has zero experience with this kind of thing. He _wants_ it. It’s just. It’s a _lot_. Somehow. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, feeling the tension in his shoulders, maybe, or feeling his hesitation, or maybe just sensing it telepathically. He smooths his hands up Richie’s back. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I _want to,_” Richie says. “God, I want to. Just give me a sec.”

“Mhmm.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. “My dick’s not even that big, you baby.”

Richie coughs out a laugh. “Oh, Eddie, baby, at least you admit it.”

“My dick is a respectable size,” Eddie says. “But my boyfriend is a behemoth and that’s not my fault. It is, in fact, a gift to me from any god that may exist, as an apology for almost letting me get killed by a fucking clown.”

Richie grins. “What’s my gift, then?”

“Me,” Eddie says, and leans forward to suck sharply on one nipple. 

“Ah, _shit_,” Richie says. He bears down on Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie was right—he’s not _that_ big. But in that moment, when Richie is sinking down on him for the first time, he feels fucking _huge_, and Richie can’t help how loud he moans as Eddie’s cock stretches him. “Holy shit,” he breathes, taking a second to adjust and then taking more of him. “Eds, _fuck._” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses. “Okay, yeah, it’s kind of different from fucking a woman, actually.”

Richie laughs, loud and sharp, and the force of it pushes Eddie deeper into him. “You don’t say.”

“Something different about fucking someone you’re really into,” Eddie says. 

Richie goes hot, as if Eddie being into him is new information in _any way._ He lifts up, sinks down again, and finally slides the rest of Eddie’s cock into him. “Oh, god fucking shit.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie says, eyes closed and voice tight. “How’s that feel.”

“Like I’ve got a dick in me,” Richie says. “It’s not good yet.”

“Get off my dick, you ungrateful piece of shit,” Eddie says. 

Richie laughs, and then starts moving, just hesitant rocking of his hips. “No, I’m gonna get it. Want you to come in me.”

Eddie breathes hotly against his chest, hands tight on Richie’s upper arms. “Yeah, okay.”

Richie hums, eyes fluttering closed. He tips his head down, noses against the top of Eddie’s head until he moves enough that Richie can kiss him. He rocks against him at the same time, and feels Eddie’s cock slide against his walls, against his stretched rim. Eddie reaches around him, presses two fingertips there where he’s pushing inside him. It’s incredibly hot somehow. 

“I like that,” Richie breathes, licking at Eddie’s lip. “Like how it slides. Mmmm.”

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps. “Good, right? You can feel me so deep, right?”

“_God._ Yeah.” Richie can. He can’t imagine what Eddie must feel like when Richie fucks him, deeper yet than this. “Can feel the shape of your cock.”

“You’re fucking tight,” Eddie groans. “Once you loosen up I’ll fuck you really good.”

“Oh, _god_. Okay.” Richie keeps moving slowly, kissing Eddie sloppily and moving his hips back and forth, enjoying the sensation of Eddie’s cock inside him and the way his body is adjusting around him. Eddie moans softly against his mouth. 

And then Richie starts moving a little faster, and arching his spine, and Eddie presses a hand against the small of his back and fucks up into him gently, and Richie _yelps_. 

“Oh, _shit_,” he says, pleasure tingling in his toes. “Can you do that again?”

“Right there?” Eddie says, a grin stealing over his face. “You like that?”

“God, yeah, you got it.” Richie strains for the same angle a second time. “Okay, I’m having a revelation here.”

“Noooo,” Eddie says, but he’s panting and smiling and fucking up into him again, and Richie’s struggling to lean back enough that Eddie’s cock hits him just right again, and—

“Shit, _shit_, ohhhh fuck.” Richie makes a choked-off whimpering sound. “Eddie, _Eddie_, you’re so fucking good at this, what the hell.”

“I’m a fucking bottom, I know what’s good,” Eddie says, scrabbling at Richie’s back and thrusting up against him. 

“Don’t come yet, god, fuck, I don’t want you to come yet,” Richie says desperately, meeting every thrust. “Can we just do this forever?”

Eddie laughs breathlessly. “You see? You _see?_ Getting fucked is fucking _good._” 

“My fucking _knees hurt_,” Richie says, shutting his eyes tightly against the sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re old,” Eddie says. “You wanna lie down?”

Richie doesn’t, but he thinks he’ll have to. Fucking _knees_. 

It takes a minute to rearrange, and Richie hates every second Eddie’s not inside of him. But they end up on their sides, with one of Richie’s legs hitched up and Eddie’s arm wrapped tight around him, fucking into him slow and deep. 

“Oh, _god,_” Richie breathes as Eddie slides back into him. “That’s really. That’s so good.”

“Still not happy about how much you’re liking this,” Eddie grunts, but continues fucking him exactly how Richie wants it. 

“Eddie, baby, I promise I’ll still fuck you whenever you want,” Richie gasps, his knees liquidefying as Eddie sinks into him really deep. “I’ll fuck you three times a day if you just speed up a tiny bit.”

“Four times on my birthday,” Eddie says, like he’s trying to bargain. In the middle of fucking Richie, when he’s at his most vulnerable. 

“Deal,” Richie says anyway. “I’ll do anything, literally, _anything_ if you fuck my brains out right now.”

Eddie laughs, and picks up his pace a little. Richie moans out a broken sound and pushes his hips back against it. 

For a few seconds, it’s just good. Richie still loves the deep, slick slide of it. And then they shift a little, Eddie tilts his hips or something, and then it’s _incredible_. Richie’s breaths start coming out as stuttered gasps. He gets increasingly less coherent, spouting half-words and nonsense and broken, ecstatic sounds, and Eddie takes over, whispering filthily in his ear. 

“Rich, Richie, baby,” he murmurs, voice shaky but firm. “Doesn’t it feel so good to be fucked, don’t you want my come deep inside you, isn’t it good? Can’t wait for you to do this to me again, I love it so much, you’re doing so good for me. No one else gets to have you like this. All for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Richie pants. “Eddie, I’m getting close, please, please.”

“God, same, _Rich_.” Eddie mouths at the patch of skin behind his ear. “What do you want? More, harder, faster?”

“Yes, _fuck_. Hard, _oh,_ harder.” 

“Fuck. _Yes_. Richie.” Eddie pulls out, and Richie makes the most pathetic sound known to man, but all Eddie does is push at his hip to urge him onto his stomach, up on his knees. Eddie settles between his spread legs and slides into him fast and hard. 

“_Fuuuck_,” Richie keens. 

Eddie fucks him exactly as Richie asked, harder than Richie ever dares to fuck Eddie when getting in him that deep is as dicey as it is. But Eddie’s not as big as Richie—Eddie can pound into him and all it feels is fucking _good. God_, it feels so good. 

Eddie’s hand wraps around Richie’s cock, and Richie knows he’s done for. 

“Eds, Eddie,” he says brokenly, fucking back against Eddie’s cock, forwards into his fist. “Please, please, more, _fuck—_” 

He comes so hard he stops breathing, for a few seconds of crushing pleasure. His entire body seizes up and then shakes, and he can feel, distantly, Eddie still fucking him, can hear him swearing furiously, and it’s so shockingly good that he almost doesn’t feel the wave of wet warmth as Eddie comes inside him. 

“Oh, _shit_,” Eddie says, breathing hard against his back, hands scrabbling at Richie’s sweat-slick hips. “Okay. That was pretty good.”

Richie collapses on his face and laughs into his pillow, trembling and gasping for air. 

“Don’t laugh,” Eddie tells him, lying down half on top of him and getting come and lube everywhere. It’s fine. Eddie always makes them change the sheets after they have sex anyway. “I’m still pissed about you having a Bottom Awakening.”

“Eddie, _let it go_. It’s fine. I promise to only want you to fuck me on special occasions, like Thursdays or something.”

“Once a _week?”_ Eddie says, voice too tired to pack any real punch. “Make it twice a month and you have a deal.”

“Stop trying to bargain with me, asshole. Don’t forget this is all your fault, for.” Richie frowns and tries to remember what Eddie did to deserve this. “Uh. What did we do before this?”

Eddie snorts into his shoulder. “The store.”

“Oh. Huh.” Richie’s brain is soup. “_Oh._ You told your coworkers we’re married.”

Eddie groans. “No, my sin was allowing you to find _out_ my coworkers _think_ I told them we’re married.”

Richie grins. “Close enough. Now let me up, I’m crushing my glasses.”

“Fucker,” Eddie mutters against his skin, and then lifts up. “Tomorrow morning, Rich. I swear. I’m getting fucked.”

“You’ll have to get up early for it,” Richie warns him. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be in top form.”

“You never do anything anyway,” Eddie says, sitting up and reaching for the wet wipes on their beside table. “It’ll be fine.”

Richie rolls over and looks at him dazedly, a grin etching itself over his face. He can feel come leaking out of him. 

Eddie squints at him. “What?”

Richie shakes his head, relishes the deep, pleasant throb inside him. “Nothing. I got fucked. I’m fucked out.”

Eddie cracks a smile. “Hell yeah.”

“_Hell_ yeah,” Richie says. “Thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Of course, dipshit. I fucking love you.”

It still makes Richie all weak in the knees when he says it first. “Yeah. I know.” He sniffs. “I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I _know_. But you’re just so goddamn annoying sometimes.”

“All the time,” Richie corrects, and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> if the people want bottom richie, they will GET bottom richie!! thanks @ erica ily. goodnight.


End file.
